For Better or For Worse
by adorestories
Summary: Grace was disgusted by her life. She no longer had anything to live for, but there was still one person she was willing to die for. "We won't be apart for much longer, Harold, I promise." *warning* first chapter is fairly depressing
1. Chapter 1

**I honestly have no idea where this came from. I'm not, like, depressed or anything... but reading this, I feel like someone close to me should've just died... anyways! Enjoy! My goal is to leave you open-mouthed and traumatized, so PLEASE let me know if I succeeded!**

* * *

"I miss you, Harold," Grace sobbed. "You've been gone for three years. I've tried to be strong, I really have, but look at me! I'm talking to a picture! I need you, Harold." Grace stood up from her couch. "I'm leaving tonight. We won't be apart for much longer, I promise. I know you won't like what I'm going to do, but I can't live without you anymore."

Grace set the picture down on the side table, where it belonged. No matter how much time passed, Grace refused to even consider putting it out of sight. She knew what Harold would say, that she needed to move on. Well, she was moving on, just not from him. There was nothing left for her here, anyways.

Walking to her desk, Grace made sure that everything was in its place. When the police came to investigate, she wanted them to have an easy time searching her house; no need to make their lives even harder. Grace turned on her computer for the last time. The background was a picture of her and Harold on one of their first dates. He looked nervous, but happy, and Grace was smiling for all she was worth. The pleasant memory brought fresh tears to the surface, and she could barely see as she typed her note.

Grace hesitated as she finished. Harold would never forgive himself if he knew what she was planning, but it wasn't his fault. She just wasn't strong enough. For a moment, Grace worried that someone would find her note before they were supposed to, but that was ridiculous. No one could possibly know what was happening in her house, not yet.

The weather was deceptively calm as Grace left her house for the last time. She felt an odd flash of irritation. Wasn't this sort of thing supposed to happen on 'dark and stormy nights'? Grace didn't really think the weather would change to fit her mood, but maybe it could rain, just a little bit?

Grace made her way to the spot where she had first met her Harold. She hadn't stopped crying since she left her house, but now she dried her cheeks with the back of her hand. The night was cooling off quickly, but she didn't care. The cold wouldn't bother her for much longer.

Grace climbed the railing and sat on it, her feet dangling over the water. Did she really want to do this? Sure, things seemed bad now, but did she actually want this? Or, if she went home now, would she wake up in the morning feeling normal? This wasn't something Grace had ever thought she would think about, let alone do. But then she realized, she didn't want things to be normal. Normal had become waking up in an empty bed, living in an empty house, and she had stopped using brightly colored paints long ago. Yes, she had to do this, no matter how selfish it was.

"I'm coming, Harold," she whispered. Grace heard a man shouting in the background as she fell, and realized someone had noticed her. She felt bad for whoever had to watch, but was glad that they were too late. She was already in the icy water, and sinking fast. She thought she could hear sirens, but the freezing water was making it difficult to think.

Grace's thoughts went to Harold, and how happy they would be together, so very soon. The last thing that flashed through her mind as darkness closed in was the memory of Harold proposing to her. 'For better or for worse, Harold, 'till death do us part.'

* * *

**So whadaya think? Please don't kill me! I promise to write a second chapter! It will go into some more details and an epilogue, so please don't hunt me down for my failures until you read it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ello, readers! Congrats to those who made it past the first chapter! Please let me know if I made any mistakes and read on!**

* * *

Finch looked up as Reese walked into the Library. They had just finished helping a number, and John had a cut on his forehead to show for it, but was otherwise unharmed. "Well done, Mr. Reese. Hopefully Mr. Chelly will lay low long enough for this incident to blow over. Nothing new has come up, so you may-" suddenly, his computer beeped.

"Never mind," Finch sighed as he limped back to his desk and Reese smiled. Even in the fading light, he saw Finch's face suddenly pale. "What is it?" He asked, but Finch ignored him. Reese looked at the screen and sucked in a breath as he saw the new number. It was Grace. "I'm going to her house. Now." He said as he ran down the steps.

Finch sat down in front of his monitors as Reese left. He quickly copied Grace's picture and sent it to the two detectives, along with her address, then called Carter. "Let me guess," she said over the phone, "you need me to break the law. Again."

"This is no time for jokes, Detective! The woman I sent you a picture of, she's in immediate danger. I need you to help us find her as soon as possible!" At the moment, Finch didn't care if Detective Carter found out his connection to Grace. He just wanted her out of harm's way.

Carter must have picked up on his urgency, as Finch could hear her push back her chair and order Fusco to get their car. "Don't worry, Finch, we'll find her." He nodded, knowing she couldn't see him, and hung up. He grabbed his coat and walked as quickly as his leg allowed to his car. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he couldn't just sit in the complete safety of his Library. Not this time, not when the number was Grace.

By the time Finch reached her house, the detectives were just walking in the door, guns drawn. They saw him pull up and waited for him to limp over. "Hey, Mr. Glasses," Fusco greeted. "We were just gonna go in, take a look around. The door was busted in." Finch nodded. "That would be Mr. Reese. He's... a bit enthusiastic about this one."

Finch could see the questions in their eyes, but he waved them off. "Please, let's hurry. I need to know what happened." He needed to, but he wasn't at all sure that he wanted to.

* * *

Carter cleared the room before she let Finch enter, just in case. He seemed to know where he was going and walked straight to the computer in the corner. Carter watched the doorway to make sure no one else came in, but turned when she heard something fall. Finch had knocked a pen holder off the desk by accident, and he had a death grip on the back of the chair. Carter let Fusco take the exit as she leaned over his shoulder to see what had gotten him so upset, and was saddened by what she saw.

_I'm sorry to whoever is reading this. I didn't want to cause any problems, but I couldn't do this anymore. Every day, I woke up alone and remembered what I used to have. I lost the one thing I couldn't live without, but I'm going to find him. Like I said, I didn't want to make this any harder than it is, so if I haven't been found yet, I'm down by the pier where I used to paint._

_I'm sorry._

_~Grace~_

Carter hated suicide. She was always called down, but there was nothing she could do, no justice for the victim or their family. But Finch seemed to be taking this personally. Had he never worked with a suicide case before?

"Take me to the pier," he demanded. "What, you too good to drive yourself?" Fusco joked. Finch wasn't amused, and neither was Carter. "The sirens will allow us to get there much more quickly," he explained as he left the room. Carter followed him out and into her police cruiser. She barely gave Fusco enough time to get in the back seat before she turned on her lights and sped off, following Finch's directions.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, Grace's pier finally came into sight. Finch didn't know when he started calling it that, but he didn't have time to think about it. In the distance, he saw Reese running toward the water. Why... Finch nearly had a heart attack when he saw someone sitting on the railing. The car was just close enough for Finch to see Grace's red hair before she jumped.

Carter stopped the car mere seconds after Reese dove into the water, and Finch nearly tripped in his hurry to get out. He ran to the edge, as much as he could run, and was about to join his love and his friend, when Fusco caught the back of his coat. "Whoa, there, Rambo. I know you like savin' people, but what're you gonna do that Mr. Happy isn't doin' already, eh? Besides, he'd kill me if I let you go in there."

Finch glared at the detective, but didn't argue; he was right, for once. So, they stood at the edge and waited. Finch called his private medical team to send an ambulance. Almost a minute passed before John broke the surface, dragging Grace's limp body. Both detectives leaned down and helped them out, while Finch stood back, feeling useless. He couldn't help without getting in the way, not with his stiff injuries.

The instant John was clear, he gently laid Grace down on the ground. No one spoke as he checked to see if she was breathing. The answer was written all over his face, and he quickly began trying to restart her heart. Finch fell to the ground on Grace's other side and held her hand as John worked, hoping and praying.

Eventually, Reese stopped. "I'm... I'm so sorry Finch... I don't... She's..."

Finch was in shock. She couldn't be dead. "Keep trying," he whispered. It was a testament to Reese's devotion that he didn't argue with him. Finch didn't care that the detectives knew Grace wasn't just some random victim to be helped. It didn't really matter anymore.

Suddenly, Grace began to cough violently and spit up water. "Grace!" Finch cried, causing Fusco and Carter to jump. "You're alive," he continued. He didn't care that he was crying, either. Grace's breathing eventually steadied, but she was shivering, and her eyes were unfocused. "Harold?" She said in confusion. "Am I dead?"

"No, Grace," he replied. "Not yet. But I need you to go back." She shook her head slowly. "I can't, Harold. I can't leave you."

"Don't worry. You'll see me again someday. I'm always watching over you. But promise me one thing; _never_ try to harm yourself again," Finch said forcefully. Grace nodded slightly as her eyes closed. It was as close to a 'yes' as he was going to get.

Finch looked up to see everyone else watching him. Reese looked relieved, Carter reeked of suspicion, and Fusco... Fusco was confused, as always. "My doctors should be here any second. If Grace wakes up, you are to tell her that Detective Stills happened to be out for a walk when he saw Miss Hendricks. Anything else was a hallucination. You may _not_, under any circumstances, tell her I was here. Am I understood, Detectives?"

After the pair both gave their consent, Carter rather reluctantly, Finch nodded his thanks. "If you could return me to my car, Detective Fusco?" He was the least likely of the two to ask him questions about what had happened tonight. Fusco shrugged, and they walked back to the car.

* * *

The ambulance had arrived and one of the private EMT's was wrapping Grace in thermal blankets when she woke up. The EMT immediately called Carter over. "What happened?" Grace asked weakly. "Detective Stills saved you from drowning, that's what happened," she said seriously. "Mind telling me what you were doing, jumping off the pier this late at night?"

Grace had the decency to look ashamed. "I-I left a note at home," she offered. Carter shook her head. "Not good enough. What was so bad that you thought killing yourself would be easier?"

"I lost someone a while ago, and I just couldn't deal with it anymore," she said as tears appeared in her eyes. Carter softened her stance. "Look, you're freezing, and it's late. Why don't you stay with me tonight, and we can talk about this more later?" She was trying to be friendly, but there was no way she was leaving this woman alone any time soon, especially after what they had gone through to keep her alive.

"You said Detective Stills saved me?" She asked suddenly. Carter nodded, but before she had a chance to speak, John appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm right here, Grace. You're lucky I happened to be out tonight."

"Detective, was there... someone else here? Someone with glasses?"

"No. Just me and the police officers who responded to my call for assistance." Carter had to swallow a snort; John was laying on the 'I'm a detective' act a little thick. Grace seemed disappointed in his answer, and Carter wondered how she knew Finch, since she obviously did.

"You should get some sleep, now, Grace. You've been through a lot," John prompted. He helped her lie down and pulled the blankets up. "I have to go now, but Carter will take care of you."

John took Carter's arm and led her away after he was sure Grace was asleep. "I need you to watch her for a while. We can't let her do something like this again." Carter sighed. She hoped Grace wasn't as stubborn as John. "Yeah, I'll watch her."

"Thanks, Carter. And whatever you do, don't mention Finch. You heard what he said; he doesn't want her to know about him." And with that, he walked away, leaving Carter with more questions than ever and a suicidal woman to babysit.

* * *

**Alright, yeah, I couldn't kill Grace. I thought about it, I really did. But then I realized I wasn't writing a one shot anymore and... this may actually turn into a tiny, little story if people want it to. Review please! How else will I know you don't want the story to end here?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hallo fanlings! I am officially making this story up as I go along, so sorry if there's not an overload of plot to it, but I have decided who the bad guy is going to be! Hurrah! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you think, especially any mistakes I made. I can't ask that enough. PLEASE. TELL. ME. MY. MISTAKES.**

* * *

It was almost eleven by the time Carter was finally allowed to take Grace home. Those EMT's were relentless! But eventually, they had to admit that Grace had no serious injuries. Yes, she nearly had hypothermia, and she would have sore ribs from John's enthusiastic life-saving, but nothing major. Except, of course, for her apparent suicidal tendencies, which Carter was not looking forward to dealing with.

Carter unlocked her apartment and led Grace in quietly. She hadn't spoken more than one word answers the entire ride, but at least she didn't try to jump out of the car or anything. Carter didn't know how badly Grace wanted to die, or even if she still did, but she wasn't taking any chances. Carter scanned her home for anything that could be a potential weapon, but nothing stood out.

"I'm not going to try again, if that's what you're worried about," Grace said as she smiled humorlessly. "He doesn't want me to." Carter didn't know whether to be relieved or curious about who 'he' was, but she still wasn't letting Grace off the hook. "I'm glad you feel that way, but you understand that I'm not leaving you alone, right?" Grace nodded sadly, and Carter thought that was progress. Maybe she was finally in charge of someone who would listen to her.

"Mom? Who's that?" Carter jumped and spun around to face her son. "Taylor! Don't do that! You scared the crap outta me!" She scolded. Taylor grinned as she continued. "This is Grace. She's gonna be staying with us for a while, until she can be on her own."

"Alright..." Carter was thankful that he didn't ask why. She would tell him later, but not in front of Grace.

Carter gently led Grace to her room; she could sleep on the couch for a few days until she came up with a better solution. It worried Carter that Grace was being so passive, like she had just given up. She mentally added that to the list of problems she now had to deal with.

Once Grace had crawled into bed, Carter checked the room over for sharp objects, then turned off the light and cracked the door. As she walked away, she heard a faint 'thank you' from her bedroom and smiled. Maybe this would work.

* * *

Grace woke up in a strange bed. She bolted upright and glanced around, but nothing was familiar. She swung her feet onto the ground, and memories came flooding back, the note, the jump, the cold water, waking up wrapped in blankets and realizing that she still wasn't with Harold. Then Grace smelled something cooking, and she remembered the pretty police woman who had brought her home.

Grace followed the scent down a short hallway until it branched off into two rooms. On the right, there a living room with a couch, coffee table, and tv. She noticed a door with multiple locks and assumed it was the front door. On her left, there was a little, open kitchen with a wooden table, and the police officer was moving around inside.

After a few seconds, the dark haired woman looked up. "Oh, hi there! Didn't know you were up." Grace shrugged but didn't answer. "So we're back to the quiet game, huh? Do you remember what happened last night?" Grace looked down. "Sort of. I tried to drown myself, but Detective Stills saved me. You were there, too, and obviously you took me here with you, but..."

"But you have no idea who I am or where here is, right?" Grace nodded. "Well, I'm Jocelyn Carter, but you can call me Joss. And this is my apartment," Joss said grandly as she gestured behind her. Grace was tempted to giggle, but she didn't feel much like laughing.

When she didn't answer, Joss sighed. "I'm almost done with breakfast. You can sit over there if you want," she said as she pointed to the table. Grace slowly walked over and sat down. She was grateful that Joss didn't ask her questions as she cooked, but that wouldn't last forever.

After a few minutes, Joss clapped, startling Grace slightly. "Finished!" She exclaimed. She piled bacon and eggs on two plates, then grabbed the toast that popped out of the toaster. Joss set the food on the table in front of Grace, then got orange juice from the fridge. "Hope you're hungry, I made plenty," she remarked as she sat down.

"Why?"

"Well, I was cooking for an extra person, and I guess I just got carried away-"

"No, I mean; why are you helping me? You don't even know me." Joss looked up from her breakfast. "I'm helping you because... Detective Stills... asked me to." Grace nodded. "So you're friends with the Detective?" Curiously, Joss snorted. "You could say that. But how about you? How'd you meet him?"

"Someone called in a disturbance at my house," Grace answered. "He came to check that nothing was wrong. I haven't really seen him since."

"That's all?" Joss said incredulously. "What do you mean?" Grace asked. "Nothing... it's just... Stills loves to be where the action is. You know, taking down drug dealers, tracking kidnappers and murderers, chasing robbers. I didn't think he'd ever gone on a routine disturbance check." Grace shrugged wordlessly. Maybe he just never told Joss when he did his boring police work.

"So, Grace... last night, you said you lost someone." Grace stopped pushing her food around on the plate when Joss mentioned Harold. She had almost managed to push those thoughts to the back of her head, but now they returned. She had been dead, if only for a few minutes, and she had seen Harold. She had even talked with him! But he didn't want to be with her; he wanted her to go back to this pointless life. How could he be so cruel? Maybe he missed her just as much as Grace missed him, but he was in heaven, she was sure of it. Grace's life was nowhere near as comforting as the paradise he must be living in. However, Grace would respect her promise; she wouldn't try to kill herself again, but that didn't mean she had to keep on living. She just had to wait for someone else to come along and do it for her.

* * *

Carter watched in concern as Grace stared off into space. Whoever she had lost obviously meant a great deal to her, especially if she was willing to kill herself to be with him. But then, Carter wondered if he was really dead. Finch seemed awfully keen on remaining unknown to Grace, and she had specifically asked for 'someone with glasses', not to mention her comment about 'him' asking her not to kill herself. But which of the two was Finch trying to protect, himself, or this woman?

"Grace?" Carter said tentatively. The red head shook herself slightly and stood. "Sorry. Listen, I should really get going. Thanks for the help, but I don't want to cause any problems-"

Carter held up a finger. "Uh uh, you stay right there. Do you know what my job is?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I work homicide. That means any dead bodies in this city are my problem. Watching you to make sure you don't commit suicide is therefore removing one of my many problems from the streets, or in your case, the river. Now I have to go to work, but since it's Saturday, Taylor's gonna watch you until I get back, and then we can have a nice, long, two-sided conversation. Okay?"

Grace looked a little overwhelmed as she sat down, and Carter waited for her to nod, before walking to Taylor's room. She pushed on the door and was surprised to see he was already awake, sitting on his bed. "Alright, what's up? It's eight on the weekend, why are you up?"

Taylor looked up from his comic book and grinned. "Well, you brought a suicidal lady to our house and have a job, so I figured I needed to watch her for ya." Carter sighed and hugged him. "I need to raise your allowance," she declared, and he laughed. "Is there anywhere I shouldn't take her? We can leave the house, right?" Carter paused to think. "That should be fine... just don't go near any large bodies of water, especially the park down by the pier. I'll be back in time for dinner, okay?"

Taylor nodded, and Carter ran out of her apartment. She was already late, and there was a lot of paperwork waiting for her. Carter trusted Taylor to explain everything to Grace, and maybe he could even convince her to have a little fun.

* * *

"This isn't working, Finch. Obviously, you being dead isn't the best thing for her safety anymore."

"It would seem so, Mr. Reese."

"That's it? You're just gonna wait it out, see if she gets over you?"

"I'm going to see if Detective Carter can satisfy her need for social interaction. She simply broke down, like any normal human does, and had no one to talk to, so she took drastic measures."

"'Social interaction'? She needs more than a friend to gossip with. She needs someone she loves. She needs you, Finch."

"Maybe, Mr. Reese."

"You know, she might need you almost as much as you need her."

* * *

**I know, not much action. There'll be some in the next chapter. Probably. Maybe. Well, we can hope!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hollo! I hope you like this chapter. I wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed so far, thanks for the encouragement!**

* * *

Carter watched Grace as she stared wistfully at her tea, as if it contained the answers to all of her problems. It was Sencha green, or something like that. Carter hadn't planned on buying anything when she offered to take Grace to get some things from her house after work, but the red-head had actually smiled when she saw the vendor in the park outside her home, albeit sadly. Not wanting to pass up a chance to cheer her up, Carter had offered to buy her a drink. She hadn't pegged Grace for a tea kind of person, but she insisted on her Sencha. Now, she hadn't even taken a sip after nearly ten minutes.

Carter nudged the small backpack at her feet for what seemed like the hundredth time, to make sure no one had taken it. She didn't want to ruin this peaceful moment, but Carter was getting restless, and a bit worried. Grace was completely zoned out, and that might not be such a good thing.

"So... do you sit out here often? Or do you like to stay inside?" Carter asked awkwardly. She really needed to work on her casual conversation skills. Grace shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry, what?" Carter repeated the question. "Oh. Yes. I prefer to paint outdoors, so I usually go to one of the city parks." Carter nodded, and silence followed; she had no idea what to say next. Surprisingly, it was Grace that broke the quiet. "And what do you do in your time off, Joss?" Carter opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn't really have time off, now that she thought about it. She was almost always either working a case for the NYPD, or helping the dynamic duo break the law.

"Well, I... I'm sort of like a consultant for some friends of mine. Any time they need advice on the legality of something, I warn them about what could get them arrested." Grace nodded slowly. "That sounds useful. I just spend my time sitting alone, sketching or reading. The only friend I've really made was a children's book writer a few months ago, I think her name was Sammy? But I haven't seen her in a long time." Carter suddenly felt sorry for her. She had no one to care about her, and she was too depressed to go out and make new friends.

"That just means we get to hang out more," Carter joked. Grace's mouth twitched upwards, but she didn't smile. Dang, so close! "We should probably get going. Taylor's gonna eat the table if I don't get him something for dinner." Grace nodded, again ignoring her joke. She stood and bent to pick up her bag of clothes and various necessities. "I got it," Carter offered. "You just drink your tea." Grace look at the disposable cup in her hands as Carter picked up the bag. "I don't like tea," she stated matter-of-factly.

Carter almost dropped Grace's backpack in surprise. "But you had to fight me for that tea! You said the only thing you would let me buy was Sencha tea!"

"Sencha _green_ tea."

"But why?!"

"He liked Sencha," Grace said quietly. Carter immediately dropped the argument as she stared at her tea again. At least there was no problem with identifying the source of Grace's depression. Whoever this guy was; brother, best friend, boyfriend, husband; Grace was never going to stop loving him. "How long?" she asked. "Over three years," Grace replied without looking up. Three long years of missing the only one who seemed to give a crap about this woman. Carter was surprised she had lasted this long.

Grace seemed to read her mind. "It's been hard. I'll go a few weeks without a request for a sketch, then wonder why I'm still bothering. But then, another job will come along out of nowhere, and I'm too busy to think about anything else." Carter suspected that the jobs didn't come from nowhere, that they came from a certain private genius, but it was a weak theory. Finch had fewer days off than she did, and how could he manage to provide a steady job for an artist?

Carter touched Grace's shoulder. "Come on, Taylor's probably eating his own hand by now. Wanna help me cook?"

* * *

Finch sat at his desk, staring wistfully at his favorite picture of Grace and himself. The past twenty-four hours had been almost suspiciously quiet, starting from when Grace... went out... last night. Finch couldn't even think about what would have happened if John had been just a few seconds later, if he hadn't seen Grace jump. He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the Library when his phone interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the taskbar at the bottom of the computer monitor. Ten o'clock. Finch felt his chest constrict as he checked who was calling him. Why would Detective Carter be trying to contact him at this hour? Had something happened to Grace?

"Yes, Detective?" Finch said calmly as he answered the phone.

_"_I_ don't think Grace is getting better anytime soon,"_ she said abruptly._  
_

"And why is that?" He replied, hoping the Detective couldn't hear his anxiety.

_"She's been depressed for years. It's just coming out now because she hasn't had any work to focus_ _on."_

Finch's eyes burned at the thought of Grace being so unhappy for such a long time; how could he have not known? Then he realized that he hadn't had time to give her another job with all the craziness going on lately. _"__Finch? I can't help her; you need to do something if you want Grace to get better."_

"Out of the question, Detective. I am confident that you will find a way to help her."

_"Finch- oh, no."_

"What?" Finch demanded sharply as Detective Carter stopped mid sentence. All sorts of bad scenarios flashed through his mind, most involving Grace, and all of them bad. He was halfway to the stairs before he remembered that Grace couldn't know he was alive. Thankfully, Carter answered quickly.

_"Grace just started sneezing. I think she's got a cold. As if we didn't have enough to worry about."_ Finch could hear the exasperation in her voice, but he was glad it was such a minor problem. He wanted to tell the Detective not to scare him like that again, but then she would know how afraid he had really been.

"I greatly appreciate your help, Detective, and I will reimburse you for any expenses Miss Hendricks might require." And before she could argue any more, Finch ended the call and sat back. Now Grace was sick, on top of everything else. This was just not Finch's week.

* * *

Finch massaged his temple as he sat back in his chair. Reese had just finished saving Leon Tao. Again. Finch supposed he deserved it for wishing for something to do last night, but he had wanted something to distract him from thoughts of Grace. Of course, the moment he got off the phone with Detective Carter, Mr. Tao's number had come up. Finch had sent John over immediately, knowing that Leon was most likely in immediate danger. Sure enough, they had spent the entire night and most of today running from angry drug dealers.

As Reese returned to the Library, Finch decided to treat himself and John to dinner, seeing as they had nothing better to do, and he really didn't want to spend another long evening alone, worrying about Grace. "Welcome back, John. I trust you have no serious injuries?" Reese nodded tiredly; doubtless he was as exasperated with Leon as Finch was. "Good. I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat? It would be a welcome change from Chinese takeout." Reese grinned. "I would love to, Finch. Got a place in mind?"

"I was hoping for somewhere small. Nothing too fancy, I think." John opened his mouth to give what Finch was sure would be an affirmative answer, but he would never know what Reese had planned on saying when Finch's phone interrupted him. Finch leaned his elbows on his desk and put his face in his hands. "One moment, Mr. Reese. It's most likely the Detective checking in."

Finch answered his phone. "Yes, Detective Carter?"

_"They're gone, Finch! I came home from work, and the whole place is tossed!"_

"What are you talking about?" Finch demanded, choosing to ignore how rude that probably sounded.

_"Half my apartment looks like a tornado went through it, and Taylor and Grace are gone!"_

* * *

**So three important questions!**

**A) If I started a series of POI oneshots, would you guys please send me prompts and stuff? You can put them in the reviews or PM me.**

**B) Is there anyone who wants to Beta this? I really value second opinions and people who aren't afraid to tell me when something sounds stupid.**

**C) I forgot my last question... so I'll just tell you that I put a Root reference in here, and I think I'm going to start putting random movie/tv/book references in and see who catches them.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry this took a bit longer to get up, but I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it. I have a crapload of homework every day :p but on the bright side, I started my series of oneshots! So now you can send me prompts! Yaaay! (By the way, if any info in here is incorrect, I'm really sorry, but I have no idea what I'm doing)**

* * *

Grace woke up slowly and with a blinding headache. Her first thought was that this was the second time this week that she'd woken in a strange place with no memory of how she'd gotten there. Her next thought had to do with the painful pounding going on behind her eyes. It felt like someone had hit her, hard, with something heavy and metal and- oh. Right. They had.

Grace jerked violently as she remembered her attackers, eyes flying open. Both actions proved to be a mistake, as her wrists were tied behind her and the sudden movements caused her headache to escalate. Grace closed her eyes again and waited for the fresh wave of pain to pass. It seemed she would have to use her other senses for the time being.

As the pain receded, Grace began to move her body one limb at a time to test her boundaries. She realized there was a cloth bag over her head, and that her sight would've been useless even without her migraine. She was sitting on a metal chair, with her hands tied together behind it. Her ankles were also tied to its legs, but she was otherwise free to struggle as much as she wanted to. She didn't. Why would she?

Besides herself, Grace didn't think there was anyone else in the area. She couldn't be sure, for obvious reasons, but it was much too quiet for anyone to be standing nearby. Judging by the lack of a breeze or fresh air, Grace assumed she was in a room somewhere, probably abandoned and definitely windowless.

Having nothing better to do, Grace replayed her memories from last night in her head; at least, she hoped it was only one night ago. She and Taylor had been waiting for Joss to come home from work so that they could go out to eat. Grace hadn't wanted to go; she barely even felt the desire to eat, but she owed it to the only people bothering to help her. Taylor had tried to engage her in conversation, but eventually gave up and let her retreat to Joss's bedroom. Grace had sunk to the ground behind the bed and buried her head in her arms as tears ran freely; her cold was making her more emotional than ever. She didn't even hear when the door to the apartment was kicked in.

It was only when someone began shouting that Grace stuck her head up. She wasn't familiar with the voice asking if there was anyone else in the house. She heard Taylor reply that he was alone, but apparently the man didn't believe him. The bedroom door flew open as Grace ducked down, watching his feet from beneath the bed. The pair of black boots moved across the floor for a few seconds before turning to leave, and then Grace had had an idea; these men were probably carrying weapons. Grace couldn't be blamed if she were somehow fatally shot, could she? So she let out the sneeze she'd been keeping in.

The man had spun abruptly and stalked around the bed, finding Grace's hiding spot. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hall, where he had yelled at Taylor for lying. Taylor looked terrified as she stood next to him, but Grace had just smiled. Looking back now, that probably hadn't reassured him. There were four men total, and they were arguing about what to do with her. Grace agreed with the two that wanted to shoot her and be done with it, but the apparent leader had refused, so they had to take her with them. Grace had been playing with the idea of jumping the tall one (maybe he would shoot her on reflex) when the leader hit her over the head with the butt of his gun.

Grace sighed under the hood. Another plan had backfired; now she was probably just going to get hurt, which did not sound like fun. Maybe they would kill her as incentive?

Grace's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and heavy boots. There was a dull thud, and the door slammed shut. Whatever had been thrown in was moving. "Hey! Let me-" Taylor stopped as, Grace assumed, he realized he wasn't alone. "Miss Hendricks?" He asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"

Before she could answer, the bag was gently removed from her head. Grace groaned as the faint light hit her eyes; her migraine had barely faded. "Yes," she whined as she scrunched her eyes. Taylor kindly waited for her to adjust before continuing. "I'm sorry," he said as she finally opened her eyes. His hands were cuffed in front of his body, but he was otherwise unbound. "I don't think they were after you. If only you'd had time to hide!" Grace could tell he felt guilty, but she didn't know why. It wasn't like it was his fault they were here. "I _was_ hiding," Grace said, trying to make him feel better.

"What?"

"I was hiding. Then I sneezed."

"Pretty bad time to sneeze," Taylor said ruefully. "I did it on purpose," Grace said quietly. She didn't know why she felt like she had to explain herself to this boy, but she did.

"You what?!" Taylor exclaimed. "Why would you do that?" Grace looked down at her feet. It was one thing to try to die; it was quite another to admit to it. Thankfully, Taylor seemed to understand. "Miss Hendricks..." he trailed off. She tilted her head up, but for some reason, couldn't meet his eyes. "Why are you trying to kill yourself?" He asked gently. Grace was surprised at how direct he was. No one had actually asked her that yet; the detectives all danced around the question like it was forbidden, but Taylor had gotten straight to the point.

"I was going to get married," Grace whispered. Maybe it was because he was sincere; maybe because he was genuinely curious; maybe it was just because he had actually asked, but Grace found herself responding to Taylor in a way that she hadn't with Joss. "I didn't think I'd ever meet someone, you know? I'm just the lonely artist that people see every day, but no one talks to." Taylor watched her carefully. "What happened?"

"He died," Grace said, voice hard. "Remember the terrorist bombing at the ferry a few years ago?" She waited for him to nod. "He was there. Said something about a meeting and... telling me everything when he got back..." Grace tried to keep back the tears, but she couldn't stop them. She had never really talked about the accident out loud, and never to another person.

Grace expected Taylor to apologize for her loss, or claim that everything would be okay, but he didn't insult her with such platitudes. Instead, he lowered his bound hands over her head and hugged her. It was probably the most awkward embrace in history, with Grace tied to a chair and his arms stuck in a circle, but she didn't care. She hadn't felt this cared for since... since Harold left on that terrible morning.

"You feel left behind," Taylor said softly. Grace looked up at him in shock. She was realizing how mature he was, but this was wisdom beyond his years. "What about the people _you're_ leaving behind?" He asked. Grace opened her mouth, then closed it. If she died, who would be left? Who would become Grace Hendricks when she was taken violently from this life? Joss would feel terrible, and Detective Stills would probably hunt down everyone in this building if she were shot. Grace had been so busy crying over Harold leaving her behind that she didn't think about the people she'd be leaving.

"I... I never thought about that," Grace stuttered. Taylor straightened up, then seemed to realize that he was still wrapped around her. He quickly pulled his arms over her head, looking away in embarrassment. "Well, I'm glad I could help, Miss Hendricks."

"Grace. Please, call me Grace."

* * *

Finch watched on in anxiety as Reese scoured the Detective's home. The pair had driven straight to her apartment the moment she called, getting there in record time, despite John's attempts to persuade Finch to wait at the Library. The Detective had, of course, searched it before they arrived, but perhaps she had missed something. Reese was always attentive to detail, but Finch could tell he was putting forth extra effort tonight; he knew what would happen to Finch if Grace... no. He wouldn't think like that, couldn't. Just her disappearance threatened his composure, something he prided himself on being nearly unflappable.

Carter periodically glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but Finch wasn't fooled. She knew perfectly well that he had some connection to Grace, and the curious detective was determined to find out what it was. She was trying to be discreet about it, but Finch noticed her evaluating him, seeing what effect Grace's situation had on him. He would have liked to claim that he kept his usual air of detached concern, but he wasn't going to lie to himself; he was panicking, and it was starting to show.

"Well, Mr. Reese? Have you found anything?" Reese sighed as he straightened up from behind the couch. "No, Finch. I'm sorry." Carter crossed her arms and jumped in. "Then we'll just look again! We need to find whoever took Taylor, and Grace, and then I'm gonna personally make sure they can't ever do this again!" Finch gazed at her in mild surprise. Of course she was angry, she had every right to be, but she had never been so eager for revenge.

"Of course, Detective, certainly. But first we need a lead. Did either of them have a phone or something of the sort I could track?" Finch said, trying to find some way to help. Carter's arms dropped to her sides. "No. Both of their phones were in the kitchen sink, completely destroyed. There's nothing salvageable."

"I'm sure you know what you're talking about, Detective, but all the same, I'd like to see them, in the event that you missed something." Carter nodded and walked to the kitchen, while John came back from searching the bedrooms once again. Of course, he shook his head to show he still hadn't found anything. John moved silently to stand next to Finch as Carter returned, watching him for signs that he wasn't as okay as he appeared.

"Thank you, Detective," Finch said as she dropped a plastic bag filled with pieces of broken technology into his hand. He wasn't feeling very optimistic about finding anything, but he had to try. Finch pulled his laptop out of its travel case and set it on the coffee table, waiting impatiently for it to power up. While he waited, he carefully emptied the broken parts onto the table and began rearranging them according to which phone they had belonged to. Fortunately, there were very few pieces that were mangled beyond recognition.

Finch then sifted through the piles for any bits that were useful, such as the SIM cards. He didn't need to separate them, but his mind was drifting to Grace, and he needed a distraction. Finally, the laptop was ready; Finch should really fix the thing, considering how long it took. Or maybe that was just his impatience talking.

Finch logged on and quickly tried to connect to either of the phones while John and Detective Carter watched anxiously. John would never show it, but Finch knew he was almost as worried as he was. If the phones had anything that could be recovered they would be listed... Finch opened a small dialog box and... nothing. Only three eligible cells in the area; John's, Carter's, and his own.

Finch sat back as much as his injuries allowed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. Nothing! Grace was gone, so was the Detective's son, and they had no leads! Finch was ready to scream. This wasn't how things were supposed to be! Grace was supposed to move on, find friends, be happy, maybe find someone new... Finch tried very hard not to think about that last one. Instead, there was going to be death, and it was all Finch's fault. It would be his fault if Grace was killed, and it would probably be his fault if Taylor died. It would even be on him if John killed the kidnappers, because he would be doing it in Finch's name, no matter what excuse he used.

A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted Finch out of his thoughts. "It'll be alright, Harold," Reese said soothingly. "We're going to get them back. I'm going to get her back." Finch nodded. "Yes, Mr. Reese. Thank you. I think that is all we can do from here. Detective, I'm sorry, but under the circumstances I'm afraid we must leave you."

Carter shrugged tiredly. "Fine. Do whatever you need to do to get my boy back." Finch nodded. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything, Detective," he said as he stood stiffly. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, getting surprised looks from the room's other occupants for his effort. He understood their shock; normally, he would never be so personal, but he was feeling the same sense of loss she was. Finch cleared his throat. "Yes, well, goodbye. We will call you if we learn anything new."

Finch hurriedly packed up his laptop and limped to the door before he could do something else sentimental. "This is really hard for him, isn't it?" He heard Carter whisper. Thankfully, Reese was silent as he followed Finch. He knew his boss wanted his privacy now more than ever. Finch turned the handle and was about to open the door when a phone rang. He turned to Reese, who held up his hands. They both looked at Carter, who was in the process of pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"The number's blocked," the Detective informed them. Finch signaled for her to wait while he unpacked his laptop again before answering it. She set it on speaker as he prepared to type.

_"Hello, Carter,"_ a man said. Finch recognized the voice, but he couldn't match it to a face without a name. However, Detective Carter was having no such problem.

"Detective Terney," Carter replied coldly. Finch could almost feel the temperature drop and he suddenly remembered that this was one of the men working for HR to blackmail her into dropping Cal Beecher's case. "What did you do?" She continued.

_"Now I warned you, Carter. I said things might get messy for your son, but you just had to keep digging, didn't you? By the way, we also got your girlfriend here; we found her in your bedroom. I didn't think you went for women, but you sure got good taste. Tell you what; drop Beecher's case, and you can have them back, safe and sound. Mostly." _The call ended before any of them could reply.

Finch glared at the wall, trying very hard not to jump up and throw something. He told himself to ignore Turney's insinuation of an improper relationship between Carter and Grace, to ignore the blatant threat against... a sharp crack interrupted his thoughts. Finch looked down at the crack in his computer screen beneath his grip, then at the two worried stares of the adults behind him. "I've just about finished tracking the call," Finch said hoarsely. "They foolishly assumed that you wouldn't be able to track it, and so only took the precaution of a burner phone."

"Finch," Detective Carter and Reese said in unison. He was unaccustomed to concern from more than one person, and so chose to ignore it. He waved off whatever they were going to say next. "We need to go now if we ever hope to see Miss Hendricks and Taylor again. Alive, that is."

* * *

**Yup, so there it is! I feel like I should say something... stay in school, read the Wheel of Time, and don't take history classes!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this took longer to get out! I am a horrible combination of busy and lazy, with a dash of forgetfulness mixed in :p But I made this chapter a bit longer so hurray! I'm sure half of you will want to kill me by the time you finish this chapter... so let me know what you think in some reviews!**

* * *

Reese drove recklessly down the empty street as Finch directed him to the source of the signal they were tracking. He was slightly surprised that Finch didn't tell him to slow down, but then again, he probably wished Reese was driving faster. The reclusive genius had limped out of Carter's apartment as soon as he packed up his computer; Reese had only beaten him to the car because of his long standing injuries. Carter had been only a few seconds later, and she was now driving her car just as quickly as he was.

Reese passed a car at seventy miles an hour and jerked the wheel left at Finch's sudden command. He felt a little guilty as his friend slammed against his door, but it couldn't be helped, not when every second lost could mean the death of Grace or Taylor. Or both.

Finch directed him out of the city to a cluster of seemingly abandoned storage buildings. "Where are we, Finch?" He asked as he parked haphazardly and turned off the engine.

"It appears to be a storage facility no longer in use. At least, that's what the official records say. It was scheduled for demolition, but there seems to be no information after that. Each building is connected to the others by a series of tunnels in the basements. It would appear HR found a maze to hide in."

"This might get interesting," Reese sighed as he heaved himself out of the car. Carter was already waiting for him, but he held up his hand. "I need you to stay here, Carter."

"John, if you think-"

"Please, Carter. I need you to stay with Finch. I don't want him to do anything... impulsive." Reese had a quick flashback to Leila. "He's capable of a lot of things, but he won't care if he gets hurt. Please."

Carter glared at him, and Reese was afraid she would say no. "You have thirty minutes, John," she said icily. "Then I'm comin' in for Taylor, and Finch will probably come, too."

"Thanks, Carter," John said with a faint smirk. "I'll try to be out in twenty." He turned back to Harold, who looked defeated. He probably knew exactly what John was going to say, but he would say it anyway. "Finch. You know I can't let you in there, not when there's so many things that could go wrong."

"I... I know... it's just... get her back, John," he said softly. Reese wasn't expecting Finch to give in so easily, but he was thankful. Obviously, he had accepted how stubborn John could be. He rested a hand on the older man's shoulder. Finch looked up at him, and no more words were needed. Of course John was going in alone; of course he would get them out alive; of course he would die trying. Finch knew that, and John knew he knew.

With a last glance at Carter to make sure she stayed, Reese took out his gun and silently stalked over to the nearest building. He slowly turned the handle and was pleased to see it was unlocked. He opened it quietly and scanned the spacious room, determining that it was empty. Reese moved in, gun raised, and walked around the large space. It was dark, but he could tell it was nearly empty of anything. The place really was abandoned.

Reese melted instinctively into the shadows as he moved along the wall. Soon, he came across a second door. This one was locked, but it only lasted a few seconds under Reese's expert hands. The metal door slid toward Reese, revealing stairs leading downwards. He slipped down the steps, grateful for how quickly he had found them. He had already wasted five minutes clearing the room; he didn't have time to spare.

A faint light from below showed a sharp right turn at the bottom of the stairs, and Reese clicked the safety off on his gun. He poked his eyes around the corner as he brought up his weapon, but no one was in the hall. Reese looked at the gray, concrete walls, the sporadic light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and the randomly placed closed doors on either side. He listened intently as he made his way along the hall until he heard voices behind one of the doors.

"Why'd we even take her? She's useless. I say we just kill her and dump the body."

"We can't, Boss's orders. And besides, maybe she's worth something to that detective."

"I still say we should off her," the first voice grumbled. Reese was confident that they were the only men in the room and kicked in the door. The next few seconds seemed to go in slow motion as both of the dirty cops shouted in surprise and groped for their guns. Before they even had a chance to aim, both were laying on the ground with Reese's bullets in their knees. He bent down and roughly grabbed one of the men. "Where is she?" He growled.

"Wh-who?" He stuttered. It was the first voice; the one that had wanted to kill Grace. Reese supressed his anger before he punched the cop unconscious. "The woman. Pretty, red hair, you wanted to kill her? Ringing any bells?" The man cringed as Reese pushed his gun against his shoulder. "H-hey wait! She's on the other side of the tunnels! I-I can make a map! Don't kill me, man!"

Reese wasn't going to kill him, but he didn't need to know that. "What's your name?" He demanded emotionlessly.

"Kyle...Kyle Sanders," the man whimpered.

"Alright, Kyle. You're going to draw this map, and I'm gonna go find my friend. She's really important to me, you see. And you know what? If she's not there, I'm gonna come back. And our next conversation won't be as pleasant."

Kyle's face turned white as he nodded vigorously, but he didn't speak. Reese dragged him over to the wall and tossed him some paper and a pen he found on a table in the corner. "You have two minutes," Reese said. He looked at his watch and grimaced. He had already used nearly half of his thirty minutes, and he hadn't found either of his targets.

Kyle finished the map in just over a minute, and held it up in a trembling hand. "Here, man! Take it and go!" Reese glared at him until he shifted nervously, then knocked him out with the butt of his gun. He then ran out of the room and followed the hastily drawn map. It was little more than lines scribbled on the paper, but there was enough to show where to turn and where to continue on straight.

Reese was nearly sprinting now, with total disregard for any enemies that might be nearby. It no longer mattered who knew he was here; he needed to get Grace and Taylor and get out. It was a miracle he hadn't been found yet; where were all the evil henchmen and security guys? Not that he was complaining, but HR was getting shoddy.

As Reese came to the last turn on the map, he slowed down. He heard struggling and came around the bend with his gun in the air. He saw Taylor fighting against a tall man in black boots and a black jacket, and instantly shot the man in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and turned to face Reese, letting Taylor go in the process. Reese shot him in the knee, then in the other shoulder for good measure. "I don't like people who mess with children," he said almost cheerfully. He looked at Taylor. "You okay?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, but Miss Hendricks escaped! That guy came in to do whatever, but I tackled him after he untied her and she didn't want to leave me behind, but I told her to run and get help." The boy finally paused to take a breath. "We gotta find her!"

Reese nodded. "Come on, we have ten minutes before the cavalry arrives. We need to be out before then." Taylor looked confused, but Reese didn't give him a chance to question him. "Which way?" He pointed opposite to the way Reese had come from, and John raised his gun before jogging in that direction. This was going to take longer than ten minutes.

* * *

Grace felt horribly guilty leaving Taylor, but what could she do? The tall man was distracted and she was free, and it wasn't as if she could've helped much. She wasn't very strong.

Grace leaned against the wall as she breathed heavily. She really wasn't used to so much running; maybe she should get more exercise when all this was over. If she even made it out. She suddenly realized how easily she could get herself killed now that she didn't want to die. How had she even gotten in this mess in the first place?

Footsteps from around the corner caught her attention. They were coming from the direction she had come from. It couldn't be Taylor; it sounded like there was more than one person. Grace straightened up and bolted down the corridor, taking as many turns as she could to lose her pursuers. Finally, she ducked into the first unlocked door she could find. She shut it quickly and leaned against it, listening. When nothing happened, she sagged to the ground in relief. Suddenly, she realized she was in an office. Grace stood up and walked over to the desk and chair. The room was almost as bare as the rest of this place, except for that and a trashcan.

Grace looked curiously at the objects on the desk. Paper, tape, scissors, phone, pens- Grace did a double take. A phone? Yes! That's exactly what she needed! She excitedly picked it up and turned it on, but was dismayed to see that it had no service. "Of course," she said ironically to herself. "It was too much to ask for a phone that worked. Calling the police for help would be too easy a solution." She sighed and tucked the phone into her pocket; maybe it would be useful later.

A tap on the door jolted Grace out of her thoughts. "Boss?" A voice called. Grace panicked for a moment. There was nowhere to hide! What if the man came in and found her? She ran around the desk and ducked behind it just as the door slipped open. She held her breath as the man grunted, then shut the door again. She didn't dare move for a few seconds, fearful he would come back and find her. When he didn't, Grace stood up and left the room after making sure the hallway was clear. If she was going to be recaptured, she'd rather have a chance to run than be cornered like an animal.

* * *

"Boss, we got a problem," the man said as he walked into the large room. It was situated at the center of the 'maze'. It used to be filled with all sorts of helpful machinery and maps to find your way around down here, but all that was gone now. The only way to find your way now was to already know your way before you started. It was irritating, but very effective when strangers tried to sneak in.

"What?" Turney said impatiently. "The woman and kid escaped," the man said. "And Mike's been shot. Three times. He's knocked out so we can't ask him, but we think it's the Suit." The man waited for the rage that was sure to come.

"You. Lost. Them." Turney said calmly. The man nodded hesitantly. "Well go FIND THEM. And if it is the Suit, kill him. Kill the woman, too. We don't need her running around."

"Sure, Boss, whatever you say," the man said as he picked up his pistol. Some people preferred to use machine guns or shotguns, but the man liked to have a strong, solid weapon in his grip that didn't require both hands to use. Shotguns were too inaccurate; machine guns were just too much noise and too many bullets and not enough results. No; when the man killed someone, he wanted it to be a deliberate shot taken carefully, and he liked his victims to know who it was that ended their lives.

* * *

Finch sat restlessly in the passenger seat of his car, the door open as far as it would go. Detective Carter leaned next to him on the exterior of the vehicle, watching him type in his laptop out of boredom. Truthfully, he wasn't actually doing anything, but if he pretended to be busy, he might eventually forget the situation they were in. He was searching fruitlessly for any signals that may be emitting from the underground compound, but either there were no phones, or they were all kept turned off.

"Fifteen minutes left," the Detective said, glancing at her watch.

"Yes, thank you, Detective. I'm sure I had forgotten since you last reminded me approximately three minutes ago." Finch replied sarcastically. "I'm aware of your frustration, and I share the sentiment, but we have to allow Mr. Reese the time we promised him."

"I don't get how you can just sit there when Grace is so close to you! I'm not sure how you know her yet, but it doesn't matter. You should be adjusting your glasses and marching straight in there to rescue her!"

"Believe me, I would like nothing more than to 'adjust my glasses'," Finch said dryly, "and go retrieve Miss Hendricks, but as you know, I can't very well march, so here I will stay." Detective Carter snorted, but remained silent. Finch was glad she had dropped it, and went back to his meaningless task.

"Ten minutes," the Detective suddenly stated. Finch sighed heavily. "Detective, please-" he stopped as his laptop showed a phone that had just been turned on. The signal wasn't strong enough to make a call, but it was there. A second later, the signal doubled in strength; it must have been moved to a more convenient area. "Hold on, Detective," he said urgently. He blue jacked the phone and turned on the speaker. At first, they only heard heavy breathing, but then, someone spoke. Or rather, they yelled.

"Hey! Get back here! How'd you get out?" There was a surprised shriek, then rapid footsteps. Finch froze in fear as the line went silent. After a few moments, there was a sigh. "Too close," someone murmured on the other end. "I need help." Finch slammed the laptop closed and got out of the car. "Come, Detective. We need to get them out. Now." Finch had thought that he could remain at a distance, but he was wrong. Maybe he could stand by while she was in trouble as long as John was going after her, but hearing her call for help... Finch couldn't stop himself. He was going to save Grace.

* * *

John turned down another random corner. He was getting frustrated, and he was no longer keeping track of where he went. He thought he had heard footsteps multiple times, but the sounds carried and echoed in this labyrinth of identical concrete hallways. Finch would be getting impatient; Reese probably only had ten or so minutes before the genius decided to come looking himself. John couldn't let that happen.

Reese stopped at an intersection between four tunnels and listened. He held up a finger when Taylor tried to question him and strained his ears for noises. There was the boy's breathing, along with his own. A door slammed in the far distance, but no one trying to hide would make such a loud noise. He was about to give up and start jogging again when he heard it. The light patter of a small person attempting to avoid notice. Reese grinned and continued straight. The sound was far away, but it was coming closer.

One more turn to the right revealed an open space. This was the first break in the tunnels that Reese had seen so far, and he stopped Taylor before they reached it. He pulled out his gun and motioned for him to stay as he inched out to observe the room. It was completely empty, just like everything else Reese had seen so far, and was roughly forty feet square. Several other doors were spread along the three other walls, most of them clustered in the corner opposite his. Suddenly, an unmistakable red head barreled through one of them, nearly tripping herself. That's when all hell broke loose.

* * *

Grace stumbled around a corner, exhausted. She hadn't stopped sprinting since she got away from that man, and she was definitely feeling it; her body protested against the exercise it wasn't used to getting. Grace didn't notice the large, open room until she had already entered, and stopped in surprise. This was new; she hadn't seen anything but straight paths since she woke up here.

As preoccupied as she was, Grace didn't see the man across the room until he stepped out. She flinched in surprise, then realized who it was. "Detective Stills?" She asked in confusion.

"Grace, come here, please," he said desperately. She wasn't expecting him to be so concerned for her, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was about to oblige him when another voice spoke.

"So your name's Grace? Good. I like to know who it is I've killed."

Grace jerked her head to the right, where a man had walked out of a door she hadn't noticed. Time seemed to slow as everything happened at once. The man raised his hand, and Grace saw his gun. Detective Stills shouted as he raised his own, but he was already to late. Behind him, Taylor reached out his hand and screamed for her to run, but her body wouldn't obey. The deafening pop of a shot fired rang in her ears, and Grace closed her eyes and waited for the impact.

When she didn't feel the searing pain she assumed came with being shot, Grace cautiously opened her eyes. A second bang announced the death of the first shooter, but he had already done the damage. A man Grace didn't recognize lay on the ground in front of her, motionless. She could only see his back, and wondered why a complete stranger would take a bullet for her.

"Finch!" The anguished cry jolted Grace out of her stupor. She looked up as Detective Stills sprinted towards her, a look of terror on his face. She saw Joss running at her from the left, but ignored her. She hurried to the man on the floor just as Detective Stills knelt next to him. "Is... is he alright?" She asked hesitantly. The Detective glanced up at her, giving her a look filled with pity. Why would he pity her? His eyes were filled with regret and concern, and some seemed to be directed towards her. "No," he rasped.

Grace turned her attention back to the man as Detective Stills gently rolled him onto his back. Her hands flew to her mouth as she saw the spiked hair and dark glasses. "Harold?" She whispered in shock.

* * *

**MWAHAHAHAHA**


	7. Chapter 7

**Gaaaaaggghhhhhhh I'M SO, SO, SO SORRY! I didn't mean to make you guys wait so long, it's just that school started and I went on vacation and then when I finally wrote the chapter I didn't have a chance to post it for like three days and I'm just listing excuses. Please accept my humble apologies along with this gift basket of assorted goodies! *gives basket with chocolate and British actors***

* * *

Grace stared in shock at her not-so-dead fiancée as he moaned softly and screwed his eyes shut. She didn't understand what was happening, _how_ it was happening. She couldn't even form a coherent thought as this nightmare unfolded before her. She gingerly reached up to touch his face, but stopped just before she made contact with his perfect features. What if she touched him and he turned out to be another hallucination?

Detective Stills suddenly stood up, and Grace remembered with a start that he had recognized Harold. What was going on? She was utterly confused as Stills stalked over to the man he had shot. He yanked the body up and Grace saw that he wasn't dead. Yet.

"Where's the exit?" Stills growled dangerously. The man coughed weakly, but managed an evil smirk. "Why does it matter? Your friend's as good as dead by now." Grace gasped inaudibly as Stills jammed his finger into the hole in the man's stomach. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the gruesome spectacle as he screamed and writhed against Stills' iron grip.

"Where. Is. The exit?"

The man pointed feebly at the door he had entered through, but couldn't seem to muster the energy to speak. Stills nodded grimly and dropped his victim carelessly to the floor. He made his way back over to her, and Grace flinched slightly as he held out his hand to her. His face softened immediately, and she mentally shook herself. This was the Detective Stills she knew, and whatever else he had done, he had proven on more than one occasion that he wanted to keep her safe.

"Come on, Grace," he said gently as he helped her up. Grace stood in silence as everyone around her talked, trying to process everything that had just happened.

"Taylor, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom, really! But what about Finch?"

"Are you alright?"

"Grace." She looked up at Stills and belatedly realized that the last question had been directed at herself. "We need to leave now," he said. She nodded absently. Everything was just too much.

Stills gently lifted Harold off the ground, wincing every time he jostled him. Stills carried him quickly and carefully to the door leading out, leaving the other three to follow behind. Up ahead, stairs leading upwards appeared from the shadows of the hallway. A few police officers ran out of a branch in the tunnel, and Grace sighed in relief. Finally, someone who didn't want to kill- she gaped as Stills smoothly shifted his grip on Harold and pulled out his gun, shooting the three officers in rapid succession.

Before she could form words to express her disbelief, Joss grabbed her arm from behind and dragged her up the stairs behind Stills. As they burst out of the stairwell into an empty building, Grace tried to pull away. "Wait, what-"

"There's no time!" Stills said urgently. He led them through yet another door, but this one led outside. Grace looked up at the night sky as they jogged toward a couple of cars and wondered how long she had been underground. Her attention was called back to Detective Stills as he spoke. "We need to get him to one of his private doctors," he explained as he opened the door and set Harold down in his car. "He can't go to a hospital."

Suddenly, the reality of the situation crashed down on Grace. She stumbled over to Harold and fell to her knees as tears ran freely. "Are you insane?" She whispered to Stills. "He'll die if he doesn't go to a hospital! What possible reason could he have for not going to one?" What possible reason could he have for being alive and not coming to her?

Joss rested a hand on her shoulder. "Grace, I know what you're going through, but he can't go to a hospital. It could be dangerous." Grace glared at her. "What are you talking about?" The Detective hesitated, and Grace saw that she had no idea why it was dangerous, either.

"John?" Joss asked.

"There's a reason why he let everyone believe he's dead," he said simply. "Now we need to go." He sat in the driver's seat and motioned for Grace to get in. She tentatively slid in next to Harold and held his head in her lap as John started the car. His face was pained, which was to be expected, but it seemed to go deeper than that. Grace suspected that Harold had been unhappy for quite a while. He had a few more lines around his eyes, but other than that, he was exactly the same as the man she remembered. But was he the same? He had faked his death, she assumed, to get away. Did he not love her anymore, was he just too much of a coward to tell her?

"Grace..." she dropped her gaze to his face, but he didn't open his eyes. "No..." he shook his head violently. "No! John..." he trailed off into unintelligible whispers. Without thinking, Grace ran her hand over his forehead. "Shh, Harold, it's alright," she said soothingly. He was by no means off the hook, but she would save her anger for later. Right now, Grace had to make sure that there would be a later.

* * *

Reese drove recklessly to the same foreign surgeon who had stitched him up all those months ago. Finch had called Madani the best in the business, and Reese hoped it was true. He didn't know what he would do if Finch didn't make it, but he had a sinking feeling that he was going to find out. John tried to push those thoughts away, but they refused to go.

He could hear Finch struggling, but Grace seemed to be calming him down, even in his sleep. Reese was astonished that the poor guy had lasted so long without her; John had been devastated when his love had died. Fortunately, Finch still had a chance, if Reese could save him. He pulled up to the morgue where Madani worked, grateful that earning a medical license took so long. The former surgeon had kept his job to keep busy while he finished his medical exams.

Reese jumped out of the car and ran to open the other door. "Here, let me take him." For a moment, he thought Grace would refuse to give him up, but then she moved out of the way. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and rushed Finch into the morgue. The halls were empty and dark; most of the employees had long since gone. Reese walked carefully to one of the numerous gurneys. He set Finch down gently, but despite his caution, the injured man still groaned in protest. Reese winced slightly, but pushed the metal table quickly down the hall. Finch didn't have time for him to be careful.

Madani was humming to himself as he cleaned his work station when Reese burst through the door. He looked shocked to say the least, especially when recognition flared in his eyes. "Aren't you the one I-"

"Yes," Reese interrupted. "And I'm offering you the same deal he did." He pointed at Finch and waited for the surgeon to nod. "He was shot in the abdomen. I don't know how bad it is, but he's been like this for about twenty minutes." Reese watched as Madani inspected Finch, ready to stop him if he made any threatening movements.

"This doesn't look good," the doctor informed him solemnly. "Judging by the placement of the wound, I'd say it's more than likely that his spine and at least one major organ has been damaged. Even if he survives, there's a good chance he'll never walk again." Reese nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Finch already hated that his leg was handicapped; how would he react to being confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life? If he even made it out of surgery, that is. "Do what you have to."

Madani nodded decisively and pushed him towards the door. "I keep my medical supplies close at hand," he began, "since your friend here started coming to me. I have everything I need, and now you must leave. Wait outside or go somewhere, but you'll have to wait until I call you back in."

There was no way Reese was going to leave Finch here alone, but waiting outside was probably a good idea. He didn't want to make Madani nervous, or he might accidentally complicate the surgery. "I'll be right outside," he said hoarsely. "Please save my friend." His last comment was added quietly, but the surgeon heard it anyways. His eyes softened as he attempted to comfort the ex-assassin. "I'll do my best, but it might take a while."

Reese stayed as Madani set out everything he would need, and didn't leave until absolutely necessary. When he made his way back to the front of the building, Carter was standing with her arms crossed, with Taylor and Grace just behind her. She looked nearly as worried as she had when Taylor was missing, but Reese ignored her and went straight to Grace. "Are you alright?" He said as he rested his hands on her shoulders. She focused on his face as he spoke, as if she had been in a far off place and was just now returning to the present.

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "I mean... is that _my _Harold?" She rubbed her temples and laughed nervously. "Of course it is. But how? He _died_ three years ago! How is he here?" Reese pulled her close as she buried her face in her hands. "It'll be okay, Grace. Harold will be fine, and then he'll explain everything."

Grace suddenly jerked away. "And who are you, _Detective Stills_?" She emphasized his name, and Reese knew his cover's usefulness had come to an end. "Do you expect me to believe that you know my fiancée and just happen to be around whenever I need help?" Reese winced as she mentioned her pending marriage.

"Fiancée?" Carter interjected in surprise. "You're his fiancée?" Grace looked at her, and Reese followed suit. The detective and her son were both standing slack-jawed. Surely she must have suspected something, but Reese knew it must be a shock to hear it confirmed. "Wait, you didn't know?" Grace asked. Everyone looked at Reese, and he found that he'd much rather be facing a gang of knife wielding assassins.

"Finch has his reasons for everything he's done. In fact, he's probably got at least three for every choice he's ever made," Reese mused before realizing he was getting off track. "What I'm trying to say is, Finch would never had left you if he thought there was any chance of being with you without putting your life in danger."

"I don't care what his 'reasons' are! I buried him. I cried for him for three years! And all this time he's been only a few miles away, living in the lap of luxury!" Grace pressed her palms to her forehead as she finished. Reese absently noted with approval that the red head had noticed Finch's expensive taste in clothing despite everything that was going on. She could be a good detective if she set her mind to it.

"Do you really think he left you just so he could live it up in the Big Apple?" Reese said. He was starting to lose his patience; did Grace actually believe Finch could be so shallow?

"No! Maybe- I just... what am I supposed to think?! And he can't even be bothered to check up on me, he has you do it for him!" Grace backed away from Reese to stand by herself. Reese tried to move with her, but Carter shook her head. "Let me," she mouthed silently. John didn't want to leave anything pertaining to Finch in anyone's hands but his own, but it might be necessary just this once, so he nodded.

"Grace?" Carter said softly, and Reese was surprised when she whipped around and threw her arms around the detective. Carter was apparently expecting it, and her arms were open wide to receive the embrace. "It's okay," she murmured.

"Why would he just leave me all alone?" Grace cried, and Reese was suddenly ashamed of himself. He had basically ignored her all night while she stared at her possibly mortally wounded fiancée who should be dead. He hadn't helped her at all. He'd just shoved her in his car with an unconscious Finch and left her in the front of a morgue. It was a wonder she'd kept calm as long as she had.

"He's a good man," Carter said soothingly. "He helps people, that's all he ever does. I don't know much about him, but I do know he would never hurt you like that." Reese nodded in approval, but didn't intrude on the moment. He hoped Grace realized that Finch had never wanted to do what he did.

Grace nodded weakly and sniffed. "He always did like to take care of people," she agreed. "I... I think I need some time." Carter immediately let her go and Reese stepped aside as she walked to the small bathroom on the other side of the room. Reese waited until she closed the door, then focused his gaze on the entrance. No one would enter without him knowing about it.

Carter's approach did not go unnoticed as she came over to stand near Reese. "Please tell me I didn't just lie to her," she said bluntly.

"What? Do you even need to ask?"

"Well, John, I hardly know you, and I know Finch even less! Excuse me for thinking he might have just gotten sick of his girlfriend or was too afraid to marry her."

Reese sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. Finch had to leave her because the government tried to have him killed. He didn't want to put Grace in danger." He thought he did a good job of being vague, and hoped Finch would be angry at him for all the secrets that had come out tonight. Angry was good; angry meant you weren't dead. Carter nodded and remained silent next to him as they waited for Grace or Madani to come out, whichever came first.

* * *

Carter sat down next to Taylor as he leaned his head on his fist. "So Grace is engaged to the Little Guy." He stated in confusion. Carter knew exactly how he felt. Since when did Finch, the reserved, socially awkward computer genius have the time or desire to have a real human relationship? He was way too 'private' in her opinion. But then, Grace was very trusting. Maybe she didn't care that Finch never told her anything?

"I know exactly what you mean. But I guess there's someone for everyone, right?" If Finch could find someone to love and love him, then it must be true. But what if he didn't make it? What would happen to Grace if his injuries were too much and he died a second time, while she had to stand by and watch? Nothing good. She'd probably try to kill herself again, or go into depression. It was a fine mess Finch had created for them. Carter hoped he made it through, and not just because he might possibly be her friend, but also because he deserved a good slap across the face from one sweet little red head.

After what seemed like several tense hours, but was probably only twenty minutes or so, Grace emerged from the bathroom. Her face was still wet from tears, but she had stopped crying and looked like she had pulled herself together somewhat.

"Hey," Carter said as she stood. "Need anything?"

Grace focused on her and shook her head, but kept her face blank. "No... I just need to see Harold."

Carter got the feeling that the next conversation those two had wouldn't be pleasant. She just hoped they would have a chance to work things out. Before Carter could answer her though, hurried footsteps sounded from down the hall. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and waited impatiently as Madani made his way towards them.

"Well?" John demanded before anyone else had a chance to speak. Madani looked around at them, and Carter suddenly thought she might not want to hear whatever he had to say.

"Your friend, he is... stable, for now. Thankfully all his major organs were intact, but the bullet grazed his spine. He's sleeping now, so I won't know how badly he was injured until he wakes up, but you can go in if you'd like," the surgeon said.

Carter and Grace followed John as he almost shoved Madani aside in his rush to get to Finch. Taylor was just behind the two women, but no less eager to see if the tech genius was alright.

Carter had seen plenty of injuries in her line of work, and even more death. But no matter how many times she looked at someone hurt or dead, it never prepared her for the sight of a familiar face in a hospital bed, or worse, a coffin. Thankfully, Finch was looking almost like his old self, minus the fancy suit. However, his pale complexion and the pain written all over his face ruined any opportunity for Carter to pretend like nothing had happened.

Everyone was deathly silent as they watched Finch's labored breathing, none wanting to wake him up. It soon became apparent, though, that they were quieting themselves for nothing as Finch cracked open his eyes.

"Hello," he managed weakly.

* * *

**I feel horrible making you all wait so long D': I mean I know a ton of you are kind of indifferent but hey I'm still sorry! I totally ran out of steam for this story... I might have to come back to it when real life calms down some.**


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